Call The Shots
by DesireInHisEyes
Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester. They're two people I never thought I'd meet, heck, prayed I never would. But they saved me, I saved them. We came to a mutual agreement, it was always best when I called the shots. Why? Simply put, I have a secret. One that is equally as deadly as it is useful. Want to know what it is? Read and find out. Warnings: language, gore, smut


**Hey Beauties, gorgeous to see you. Thought I'd try something new and this is what I came up with. Hope you enjoy! Much love.**

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You see, sex is a lot of things, but for me, sex is a living, it's food on the table and perhaps a bed for the night – if you're lucky.

Sex is supposed to be fun, right? Or maybe some would call it a thrill or some pity's play. But for me, it was a job, and I was good at it.

When I picked up a lonesome bloke with a crease in his brow, a hunch in his back and a scowl on his face, I knew it was time to make some cash.

"Hello," I called out, and he looked back at me before he kept walking. "Hey, can I talk to you?" I asked gently. He stopped reluctantly and turned to me.

"Look, I'm not interested."

I smiled softly, "I didn't say you were, and I didn't say I was selling. I asked if we could talk."

He took a hesitant step closer, "What do you want to talk about?"

"Books."

He quirked a thin eyebrow, an irritated look on his face, "Books?"

I grinned for him, "Books." With a reassuring glance.

"Look, I'm sorry, but I don't have the time. I got to get back to my brother-"

I interrupted, "Mind if I tag along? There's all kind of weirdos out there, and you seem like a nice guy."

"I'm sorry, but I don't think-"

"Just down the block, please? There's this one guy who keeps trying to reach his hands up my skirt without paying." I fidgeted with the cheap ring on my finger, the one that turned my fingers green if I left it on too long.

He softened, the lines around his eyes eased out, "Okay, just stay close to me." He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and continued, "Where to?"

"Just this way, then I'll leave you to your evening." I tugged at the hem of my skirt, and smirked - he was playing well at my game.

"I'm Isabelle, by the way."

"I'm Sam." He said with a slight smile, his bangs playing over his dark eyes.

"You're new around here, Sam," I stated, glancing over my shoulder, but giving him my full attention.

"My brother and I just pulled in yesterday morning."

"Vacation or business?"

"Business." He said with a small laugh.

"It's always business," I said, "No one comes to Birmingham for vacations." He smirked.

"I don't suppose many."

"How long are you staying?"

"Just a few days, or at least until the business is done."

"Fair enough," I stated. "Where at?"

"The motel down on main." He replied.

The cold of December settled heavily upon us, and I shivered before shrugging, "I'm not much for small talk, Sam. Let's talk about books."

He laughed lightly, "You sure are adamant about books."

"Well you do too, not just anyone uses words like 'adamant.'"

"I suppose you're right."

"So, books." He said, looking around just as cautious as I am.

"Books." I said, "Any favorites?"

Sam shrugged, "You probably wouldn't know much about my favorite books."

"I might have taken offense to that!" I remarked sarcastically.

"I didn't mean like you're not smart…I just meant," his brow furrowed, "Never mind." And he smiled easily at me.

We walked in silence for a little while longer – I didn't like silence; silence didn't earn me money.

"So, what do you and your brother do?" I asked.

"Uh," He dug his hands deeper in his pockets. "Can you keep a secret?" I almost laughed; he looked like a puppy.

"Depends, what's the secret?"

"We're FBI."

I laughed that time; no way Puppy Boy was FBI. "FBI my bottom lip."

"We are!" He defended.

I stopped in my tracks and turned towards him, "Badge." I commanded.

He shuffled through his pockets and patted down his jeans, before pulling out a badge and flashed it at me. I looked at him, "It says, bikini inspector."

Sam flushed, shuffled his feet and stuffed it back in his pocket and said, "No, it doesn't."

Impersonating FBI, another thing I can write him up for.

The poor guy must not have been older than twenty-five, and with his shaggy mane and calloused hands, there was no way he could have honestly expected me to fall for that.

He was young, and so was I, but I had something he didn't – experience on the streets.

I'd serviced some of the top drug dealers in Birmingham, Washington, San Antonio, and Los Angeles. I had been their undoing.

It was fun to watch years of what people had worked for unravel in my hands in minutes, and I was odd like that. I had a strange addiction that required a lot of work to fuel, but my highs lasted longer than most, and I was patient.

So, you may be wondering, why did I choose Puppy Boy off the streets? Because you couldn't make every bust some high up, you had to calculate, had to be precise.

Plus, this one was cute. I enjoyed the cute ones.

I took a step forward and leaned against his chest. It was time to make my move.

"What if," I traced the bone structure of his face, "We have a little fun, and I make sure not to tell anyone about what you do during your off hours as a 'Bikini Inspector'."

Sam took a nervous step back, "And who would you tell?"

I smiled, placing a hand on his chest, "The police." He tensed beneath my hand. He was a tall one, and so I leaned up on the tips of my heels. "Impersonating an agent holds a penalty, y' know? Up to three years behind bars." Plus, "I imagine that's not the only thing you're hiding, Sam. You could have all sorts of criminal behavior on your record; it could only take one little search of your name."

"And what if I run?"

I flicked my tongue over my lips, "Then you'd miss a heck of a good time."

He smiled at me.

That son of a bitch ran.

I watched him make tracks down the alleyway, and I decided I didn't want to waste my time on him.

It was now well past midnight, and I hadn't gotten anything interesting. I had no actual targets, and Sam was not working. Maybe he was gay; I don't know.

I was walking on my way home now when I heard a whistle behind me.

I turned and grimaced. It was an old fat dude with a bald spot the size of Missouri, and gut hanging over his belt. But he was wearing a three-hundred-dollar pair of shoes and a silk tie – I could work with it.

I turned my snarl into a smile and strutted over to him.

"Hey baby, what's your name?"

He was not going to be a fun one; he stuttered and almost tripped over his own feet. "Carl."

"Hey Carl, I only cost fifty an hour, wanna take me home?"

"You bet." He muttered, a dreamy look in his eyes.

He set out walking and didn't stop for a car – lovely. Now, what dump of a motel is he going to take me to?

We ended up at the cheap hotel on main, I wasn't sure if this had been the one that Sam had been talking about, but maybe I should be glad he didn't take me. This place was crap.

Things went quickly, and poor Carl seemed like he hadn't touched a woman in about twenty years.

He was passed out in the cheap bed that springs creaked whenever you moved an inch, and so it was a struggle to get out of the bed without waking the snoring lout.

It was time to make my move, make my Mom and Dad proud. I kissed my fingertips and put them to the air before I went to the dingy bathroom and pulled the door closed.

The air vent rattled, and the yellow lights made my complexion look horrible, but the roach in the corner was dead versus alive, and so I took that as a bonus.

I pulled out my phone, and waited, "This is nine-one-one, what's you're emergency?"

I put on my best panicked voice and said into the phone, "I've been raped, I need help."

"What's your location?"

"I don't know; it's a hotel down on Vulcan road, it's cheap, maybe the Motel 6?" I breathed heavily into the mic, giving myself jitters.

"Do you have a room number?"

"I think it might be 44."

"I'm sending an officer en route to your location."

"Can I have your name?"

"Isabelle Ricardo."

"Do you have a callback number?"

I rambled off the number, trying to warm up my legs by rubbing them viciously.

"Would you please stay on the line, miss?"

"He may hear me." Doubtful, if the snores from the other room were anything to go by.

"Please stay on the line, miss."

"I have to go, hurry."

"Miss? Miss!" I heard through the line before I cut it.

I heard sirens out the door, but a moment later, I hurried out the bathroom and rounded up Carl's wallet, emptied the two hundred dollars he had stored up in there, with a bunch of crinkled ones and a couple of the twenties.

I pulled on my shirt and stuffed the money in my bra, Carl had woken up at some point and looked up at me, "Hey, what are you doing?"

I smirked, "Honey, you've just had sex with a minor, not of the legal age of consent, I think I should be asking you what you'll be doing for the next ten years?"

The look on his face transformed from confusion, to fear, to terror. About that time, the door that had is so carelessly left unlocked was opened by two police officers.

"That's him, officers!" One looked at him, and the woman officer looked at me and trekked viciously towards me. I recognized the look on her face, it was the look of a predator, and I was the prey.

My gaze immediately became confused, and the terror grew on my expression as the other cop wolfed out on Carl. Like literally, wolfed out – his teeth grew into long, wicked sharp canines and then dug into Carl like he was dessert.

I screamed, and so did he, blood gushing from his throat. The lady cop's face changed from quite lovely to hosting an impressive maul, her eyes turned bright green, and her pupils changed into slits.

She charged like an animal, and I fought with her, she was inhumanly strong. She wrestled me to the ground, her maul dripping saliva in my face. All I heard from Carl was pitiful whimpers as the other one dug into his throat, but I had my problems to worry about. I screamed again in effort and fear. It took tremendous effort to keep her face away from me, but her claws were wracking along my chest. She was stronger than me; she outweighed me; she was taller than me.

After everything I've survived I was going to die without any pants on, I guess it's good to go out in the way you live – slutty.

She growled, before a loud crash echoed in the room and then the sound of several gunshots. She fell limp on top of me, and I groaned, my arms giving out. The immediate danger passed, I felt myself start to go into a haze. There were voices, all muddled, and like my head was full of cotton.

Someone pulled the body off me, and I looked up into some charming dark eyes – familiar eyes. "Sam?" I asked, my voice weak.

"Hey, it's okay now."

"Sam?" I asked again, dumbly.

There was another man, and he said, "The guy's already dead."

"Carl?" I asked my brain fog. Even if he was the clumsy old guy, he didn't deserve to die.

They both looked at me, "Let's get you out of here." The other one said.

"My pants," I said, and it was then at that moment that they realized I was, in fact, without pants.

I didn't feel any particular shame about it, but then again I had just been attacked by a human, wolf…thing. Werewolf? Had I been attacked by a real monster? Had my life just hit a whole new level of weird? Probably.

But back to pants.

Sam handed me my pants, and I pulled them on quickly, both of them turning away awkwardly.

Maybe they were both gay; I don't know. Maybe they were gay for each other, this was the twenty-first century, who knows?

"Alright," I said, they both turned back.

"Alright," The shorter guy echoed. "Safe place."

By 'safe place,' I guess they meant the room next door because that's where we ended up.

"Are you going to give her 'the talk' or should I?" The shorter one asked Sam, and I laughed.

"Trust me I've already had that talk; it's kind of necessary for my line of work."

They looked at each other, faces flushed, the shorter guy closed his eyes and said,

"No, no, not _that_ talk. This is the one about monsters and crap."

"Like the freak of nature that attacked me in the room?"

"Yeah, exactly like that."

"So," They looked at me expectantly. "Whatcha got?"

The shorter one sat down on the queen bed opposite to me, and said, "Well, let's start with werewolves, and we'll work our way up." I smiled grimly.

Yup, a whole new level of weird.

**Reviews are lovely, au revoir motherfuckers. **


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